Freedom For All?
by Wildcard999
Summary: Magneto is at war with the humans, Dr. Kastroff is at war with the mutants, and the X-Men are at war with everybody. Professor Xavier has a lot on his mind, can he handle yet another problem? Plus, DC gets to see what life is like on the other side.
1. Introductions Part I

This is the largest story I have ever tried to undertake, but not to worry, I am a serious writer who is bound and determined to wow you guys without using plot crutches or making stupid mistakes for the sake of making something happen. I write as though this were reality, and if it doesn't sound real, I change it. I loathe OOCness, Mary-Sues and one-dimensional characters. If you find any of that in my fics, let me know immediately so I can change it because I consider that intolerable.

Not to say that I will make every change suggested, or try to please everyone. No half-decent writer can cater to her audience long before becoming a crap-ficcer. I write the story as it came to me, I use the characters that belong in the parts they are supposed to play to make the story come alive. All word definitions will be at the bottom of the relevant chapters.

That said, please enjoy the hilarity of their suffering while your favorite characters try to understand the new arrivals to their world.

* * *

Love and hate; two of humanity's most basic emotions. Absolute opposites, both of which we seem to have a endless capacity for. Paradoxal in our natures, is it any wonder no one can make sense of us?

**Static Shock Introduction**

_March 2005, five points off origin; Static Shock cartoon timeline_

"Rich, wh—where are you going?" He's already mostly packed up by the time I get there. What is going on with him lately?

"I'm leaving V, I told you." He seems mad, but I can't tell why. _Did I do something?_

"Yeah, but where?"

"Stephanie's…got a place."

"Is it in Dakota? Out of state? How can I visit y—"

"You can't visit me." The tension in his voice is starting to worry me. _And what do you mean I can't visit you? We're partners. Best friends!_

"Richie, if this is about what I said last night, I'm sorry." _Whatever this is, we can work it out! Can't we?_

"This has nothing to do with you." He sighs and stops packing. "This is just something Stephanie and I decided to do. We're moving, and it's…too far. I can't see you." Richie resumes piling pieces of his life into a suitcase, though I notice his costume is conspicuously absent.

"But why? Why not move closer, or not move at all? Richie, why are you doing this?" _I can't believe what I'm hearing! How could you agree to this? And what's Stephanie planning!? Why would she make you leave everything you know, your best friend, your family, your whole __life__?! I've gotta find out what she's up to!_

"This isn't easy for me, Virgil, but it's something I have to do. I can't explain it." This is obviously the work of some bang-baby power. I knew there was something sinister about her; Batman couldn't find her in any database on the planet!

"Richie, this isn't like you. don't you see? There's something wrong here! She's doing something to your brain—"

"Are you on this again? God, will you leave Stephanie alone?! She is my girlfriend, Virgil, and there's nothing bad going on here. I know what I'm doing." He comes over and looks me straight in the eyes. "I'm leaving. Forever. You're never going to see me again." He turns back to his work. "Good-bye V."

"…Bye…?" All I can do is stare. _Why? How could this happen? _I turn to trudge down the steps outside his bedroom. I leave Richie's house in a fog, trying desperately to process what just transpired. _My best friend is leaving…forever…and I can't stop him…No! I can stop him. I have to! Batman, he can help! _Snapped out of my confusion, I race home with a renewed sense of purpose. If Batman can't fix this, then no one can!

On the way, a cop car passes me, lights blazing. _Sigh. A superhero's work is never done._ Following the car on my flying disk, I discover a panic-ridden city street, covered in flying debris, emergency vehicles, and of course, the terrified public.

Whatever the source is, it appears to come from an amazingly bright alleyway, so I charge over, ready to beat the snot out of whatever bang-baby is causing all this chaos. I have to hurry and finish here so I can fix this before Richie leaves town. Before I get to the alley though, something hard hits me from behind and I black out.

—oOo—

**X-men Introduction**

_October 2004, twelve points off origin; X-men: Evolution cartoon timeline_

"Jean! Cover Beast, he needs to get her out of here!" He is dodging the gun fire pretty well by himself, but he's holding an innocent girl in his arms. I need to make sure she stays safe. _They've got it._ I turn to monitor the rest of the battle.

"Nightcrawler, how are you doing with the wounded?" I can't see him right now, he's on the other side of the battlefield assisting our allies.

«I have almost finished, Cyclops. They say they have two more still out there, with Callisto.»

"Good, we're going to have to pull out soon, there's just too many of them." I try to stifle the wave of relief that crashes across my body; I can't relax just yet.

«Hey, Cyke? Can I get a little help here? The Vanguard is regrouping on the south side and the Morlocks are spread too thin to cover them.» Relief is replaced by despair. We can barely cover our own front, let alone send Evan reinforcements. As a former X-man, Evan knows we'd help him in any way we can, but I've already given him everybody I can spare.

"We're a little strapped but—" Suddenly I hear loud grunts and gunfire over the radio. I know it's a mistake, we are just barely holding our line, but I can't just leave him hanging. With a growl, I utter a curse and activate my communicator again. "Iceman. Can you give Spyke a hand?"

Looking over, I notice Bobby had been watching me. _If he doesn't concentrate more, that kid is going to get someone killed!_

«On it!» He salutes me as he creates an ice bridge over one of the many hills dotting the junkyard.

«Cyclops, I have secured our young friend in the X-jet, shall I return to assist you?» _Finally! A little good news, I really need that. Thank you Dr. McCoy!_

"No, fire up the jet so we can get out of here. Send Jean back though, we need her." _Maybe we'll be okay after all. If we can last the minute or two it takes Jean to get back, everything will be okay._

Feeling good, I shoot down a few more mini-copters with my optic energy blasts. I dodge through a hail of bullets and laser-fire riding on a high I haven't felt in a while.

But my optimism doesn't last.

A piercing scream cuts across the battlefield, a steel foil through a row of candles.

"Shadowcat!!!"

—oOo—

**Clark Kent Introduction**

_August 2006, three points off origin; Smallville TV Series timeline_

_Ten o'clock am. Is that late enough to not seem eager? Who cares, I can't wait anymore. I have to know. Now._ It's a three hour drive from Smallville to Metropolis—plus morning traffic, but I'm not taking a car. Thank God for superspeed; sometimes it's great being an alien with really cool powers.

In the blink of an eye, I'm standing in front of the Daily Planet building, staring up at the grandiose golden sign. Another blink and I'm in Chloe's office, watching her papers go flying. One of these days, I'm going to need to figure out how to fix that.

I'm practically burning with anticipation, but I can't appear too invested. I try to sound as nonchalant as I can. "Hey Chloe. So, did you find anything yet?" Darn it! It didn't work. Boy, I hope she didn't notice. She usually doesn't, knee-deep in a story, but who knows?

"No, sorry Clark, nothing yet…" She seems distracted. Didn't even finish picking up the papers on the floor. Chloe abruptly stops typing and turns to me, like she just realized I was here. "Can I ask what this is about?"

_Oh no, I was afraid of this._ On reflex, I fix my gaze on a floor tile to my left. "Uh—it's nothing, I was just curious." _Please leave this alone, please leave this alone, please…_

I sneak a sideways glance and catch a glimpse of the hard look she's giving me. "Clark, it's me, Chloe. I know you're secret. Whatever it is, you can tell me." _No Chloe, I can't, because if I did, she'd die. If she hasn't already—No, don't think about that, Clark. Focus._ I so wish I could tell her, but I can't breathe a word to anyone about Amanda; not even Chloe.

Seconds pass, and she can tell I won't give it up without a fight, so she tries again. "I promise I won't tell anyone. My lips are sealed." She even illustrates her vault-like qualities by miming locking a deadbolt on her lips.

_I know Chloe, you don't have to tell me twice. You've kept my secret for almost two years now, never even told your boyfriend._ "I'm sorry Chloe, I can't." I never exactly plan it; the puppy-dog eyes come out of their own accord, but I still hope it works. Keeping this from her is just too painful.

Exasperated, she throws her hands in the air, "Why? Clark, I thought we were friends, why can't you tell me?"

Fighting an internal battle, there is finally a winner when Chloe gets up to leave. I know this could come back to haunt me, but she deserves an answer and I have to get her to stop asking questions. "Because I made the same promise."

Now it's her turn to feel guilty. Shoot! I didn't really want to make her to feel bad, but at least she's stopped pressing. Oh well, I might as well get what I came for and leave before I can make my closest friend feel any worse. "Are you sure there isn't anything at all?"

Given a task, she is all business, as though nothing ever happened. Good. I hate being a jerk and making her feel bad all the time. She strides over to her computer to bring up the info she found. "I'm positive Clark, look. There's a guy in Tennessee who swears he saw a vampire, a little girl in Nebraska threw a tantrum when her family tried to board a plane that crashed two hours later, and a dog predicting the weather with tarot cards in Center City. Now, the girl in Nebraska might have powers, but you said you were looking for someone with no family."

"Right. Well, okay. Thanks Chloe." I didn't think she'd find anything. It's already been three years, and I personally scoured the globe, looking. Nothing. Not a gosh, darn piece of evidence that could tell me where I might find…sigh.

Heading out the door with my spirits in my ankles is slow going, so Chloe has time to stop me.

"Clark wait. At the risk of running into the steel wall on your vault of secrets again, a little more information about where or what kind of powers I'm looking for would make this go a lot faster." Just like Chloe. She never gives up…and neither will I, Amanda is counting on me.

"I'm sorry Chloe, that's all I can give you. Thanks for trying." I head back to the farm to finish my chores at the speed of light.

-+-

"Hey, Clark? Lunch is ready!" I'm all the way in the barn using the table saw, but I can hear my mom calling me into the house anyway. I turn off the saw and put everything away before heading to the door.

My super-hearing tells me the wind is picking up too. Starting to get worried, I race out of the barn to see if there is a tornado nearby, but something strong yanks me to the side and tries to rip me apart as I fight for consciousness—and lose.

—oOo—

**Batman Introduction**

_July 2046, six points off origin; Batman Beyond cartoon timeline_

The sun had set over the cold, empty mansion hours ago. In the full light of day, it can still manage deep shadows and a depressing drear. By nightfall, the entire property seems consumed by an abyssal darkness. Even after all this time, it still gives me chills.

Eight o'clock pm. Most people would be at home right now, finishing dinner, chatting about how their days went, winding down for the night. Soon, the I love you's and kisses good night…. But not me. Not now, not anymore. I'm stuck in a dark house, with a dour host and dust covering everything. It seems like the old man keeps it there to remind just me how long it's been since this desolate place had any life.

Life. Lifeless. This is a place of death. All who come here die, or are already dead, waiting for the end. So many have gone before me.

_Soon, I will join them._

My work completed above, I descend to the cave below, not sure why though, habit perhaps. I know what he'll say, he's said same thing every time for the past six years. I don't want to hear it, but I go anyway. _Must be a glutton for punishment._

Not much difference here, it's the same theme. Relics of the past and monuments to the passed away collecting dust, on display for the few still left alive. The Batmobile, set apart from the pedestals of souvenirs, is all that's left still in use. That and the monstrous computer covering half far the wall.

Nearing the end of the long, curved stair down, the row of costumes is in full view. I allow my eyes to settle on the closest one, as they do every night. I couldn't bear to wear the same costume he did, so I'd had a new one made. The old one now rests along side the other fallen and retired heroes who came before us.

I miss him.

"It's late." My eyes jerk away to focus on the opposite end of the expansive cave. He's leaning forward in his chair, propped up by the cane, a stone statue staring hard at me.

"I know." Back on the stairs my progression had slowed, but I pick up the pace now. The sooner I retrieve my things, the better.

"It's dark."

"I know." _Can't he take a hint?_

"This is your time of day." He isn't going to let this go.

"I know." _Would it kill him if I punched him in the nose?_

"It's your job." _Damn him. He really knows how to push people's buttons. Why do I do this to myself?_

"I know." _How can I tell him what I'm feeling? How can I make him understand—at least enough to let me walk outta here?_

My eyes meet his for a split second before I cast them down again. It just hurts too much.

"I just…don't feel right about it. I mean—this is his costume. I was just filling in until…"

"…It's been six years. He's not coming back." _No! Don't say that! We'll __find__ him, I swear it! _I can't believe he just said that, but part of my knows he's right.

"Tomorrow. Okay? Just not tonight. Tonight is his night." The same every year, but this time is different. This time he lets it go. I wonder, is that good…

…or bad?

I grab my bag and leave as fast as I can, before he changes his mind. Heading for home, I fall into my annual ritual of remembering the great man whose shoes I've tried to fill. Terrence McGinnis. The Dark Knight of Gotham. He just disappeared one day, July 15, 2040, no warning, no trace. Terry; he was a good man. He was kind, caring and completely selfless. And for the last six years, I've tried to live up to that standard. And for the last six years, all I've managed to do is lose my friends while I poured every last bit of energy I had into doing his job and finding him. Six years, and all I've been able to find is a complete lack of any kind of evidence. _Six years. The old man is right, Terry is gone and we can't find any trace of him. Why? How? How does a kid disappear so completely that even Batman can't find him? Unless…_

No, no he'd never do that. Bruce would tell me if he knew where Terry was. After all, everyone thinks I'm him; there'd be no point to keeping me in the dark if our boss had to hide him.

Everyone thinks I'm him. I'm Batman. Everyone but me. Me? I know the truth. I'm just his best friend.

Maxine Gibson.

I notice a light peeking out of the alley ahead; I'd better check it out just in case.

"What the—!" It's some kind of energy ball or something! I sling my pack to the ground to pull out the Batsuit, but before I can take it out I'm wrenched into the air, feeling like I'm being torn apart.

—oOo—

**Robin Introduction**

_February 2008, twenty-three points off origin; Teen Titans cartoon timeline_

"AHHH!" I wake with a start, my heart hammering in my chest. I don't try to remember why my heart is racing—I don't want to remember—I'm just relieved the nightmare faded so quickly.

This morning is no different from any other; I have nightmares like this often. The things I've seen, the things I've experienced…done. There's no real surprise here. And like any other morning, the extra-long, hot shower improves my mood slightly, but my nerves won't settle until I join my friends for breakfast.

I'm able to shuffle halfway to the kitchen before Starfire ambushes me in the hall, that dreaded gleam of hugs in her eyes.

"Good morning Robin! Beast Boy has prepared us a meal of tasteless egg-substitutes and discolored false sausages!" I gasp for air and use the breathing exercises I'd learned to not pass out. I swear my eyes are about to pop out. _Did I just hear a rib crack?_

It's almost impossible to speak normally after that death-grip hug, but I manage it anyway.

"Sounds great. Thanks Star." Gasping for breath, it's kind of hard not to laugh; Starfire is pretty funny, even when she is crushing me. Only the years I spent with Batman keep me from doubling over with laughter. I still can't help the smirk.

By the time we get back to the kitchen, breakfast is already on the table and quickly disappearing, and if I know my friends, they are about two minutes away from an argument.

"...So anyway, I go left and this other kid goes right and the monster trips and falls on him! Then all I have to do is dodge the zombie hoards and duck the mutant vampire bats and I get to the next level!" Beast Boy is beaming brighter than the sun—I wonder how long that will last.

"Man, that was some pretty good luck." _Wow, Cyborg sure wiped the grin off BB's face quick!_

"Luck? That was talent! I'd like to see you get there in only fifteen days!" Uh-oh, a challenge. They'll be at it all morning, one-upping each other. I'd better leave before they ask me to referee.

"Fifteen? Ha! I'd make it in ten!"

I think I set a new record for clearing my plate; I can hear Alfred now, "_Slow down, Master Dick. You'll suffer a stomach cramp."_ I shove his voice out of my mind as I dump my dishes into the sink.

"Ten?! That's impossible!"

"Why Don't we make a this a bet?"

This is the part where they ask me to judge. Luckily I'm out of sight, in the elevator heading to the Tower garage.

When I get off the elevator, I notice a slight draft. _Cyborg must have left the door open when he got back with the T-car last night. I'll have to talk to him about that._ Sliding into the seat of my custom 'cycle, the whole morning melts away in an instant. Soon I'll be out on the open road feeling the wind in my hair, dodging in and out of traffic, with nothing to do but enjoy the ride.

I start her up and maneuver around a pylon. On the other side I am faced with a large, raging vortex, viciously wrenching off pieces of walls and ceiling. Everything loose must have already gone in. I have no time to stop, so I swerve while fishing out my communicator. Wrong move: The winds pick up and latch on to me! I send out a line to anchor myself to a wall but it never reaches…

—oOo—


	2. Introductions Part II

Hate is an endless desert, devoid of water. The harder you search for the water that isn't there, the quicker the desert kills you.

**Harry Potter Introduction**

_September 2006, fifteen points off origin; Harry Potter movies timeline_

"Come on Potter, give me your best shot." _It was such a nice day._

"I don't want to fight you, Malfoy." _Why me? Why is it always me?_

"You hear that, Goyle? Poor little Harry Potter's scared!" _Haven't I been through enough?_

"I am not scared. I just don't want to fight you." Draco Malfoy has had it in for me since the beginning, torturing me daily. Today is no different.

Malfoy and his two lapdogs, Crabbe and Goyle, are in the background, cracking up like Malfoy was the funniest bloody comedian in the world. Goyle only manages a single half-witted comment before he's overtaken again.

"Or—or maybe you're just in love with him!"

I'd like to take that finger he's pointing in my face and jam it in his eye!

Draco turns on his crony in an instant, "Oh yeah, that's brilliant! Do I look like a poof to you?" I nearly burst out laughing at that! Obviously Malfoy didn't understand the insult. Crabbe and Goyle are simpletons, but they wouldn't be that stupid. _I suppose they aren't the only ones with the intelligence of a sack of potatoes._

"Uh—no, I meant him with you—I mean you and—I—"

Never ask Goyle to explain something; he can barely understand when others explain things to him.

Malfoy seems fairly occupied tearing his mate a new one, so I turn to leave, catching a glimpse of a bright light in the sky with the edge of my vision. Likely someone shot off a spell toward a passing raven or sparrow.

Though Malfoy and Goyle were preoccupied, Crabbe unfortunately, wasn't.

"Hey, he's leavin'!" _Damn!_

"Hey, Potter, where do you think you're going?" _Anywhere but here._

"Sorry, you just seemed so busy discussing you're love life, I thought we were done." _Hey, that was pretty brilliant, I'll have to tell Ron later. He'll have a right good laugh at that one!_ In the brief second before Malfoy's retort, I glance up to see a ball hanging in the background about ten meters up from the ground.

"Oi, that's rich! Baby Potter, too-frightened-of-his-own-wan-to-fight-me, makin' fun. Well Potter? What say we settle this like men, unless you're too scared?"

Whatever it is continues to grow in size as I stare at it.

"Hey, what is that?"

"I'm not falling for that Potter." _You stupid little prat, I'm not tricking you!_

"No, really—Look!" Still not believing me, he turns around anyway.

"What is that?!" _How should I know? I just asked you that!_ For complete simpletons, Crabbe and Goyle have a little more sense than Malfoy, and blow past me a full three seconds before he begins stumbling over his own robes in a mad dash for Hogwarts.

Captivated, I continue to stare at the ever-expanding sphere, my scar throbbing rhythmically. Time seems to hang, the floating object's size the only indication that any has passed.

"Harry!"

The voice barely registers as I gaze at the sphere's green-tinged surface, still mesmerized.

Harry!" I start and whirl around to watch Hermione racing towards me, Ron trailing her by a few meters. Both are clearly frightened, but Hermione seems more worried about me than herself. She's such a good friend.

"Hermione! What is that?" I'm not sure why, but I wave to her and return to staring at the spell in the sky. It seems to be calling me.

"I don't know, I've never seen anything like it!" That isn't good. Hermione knows just about everything about magic. But if this isn't magic, then what is it?

Ron, looking very much like a gazelle in a room full of lions, covers the last few meters just after Hermione. "I don't know about you guys, but I'd like to get out of here before we find out."

"Good idea, Ron." It's almost painful tearing myself away from it, but running is the only sensible thing to do.

My goal set on Hogwarts, I charge almost blindly, ignoring my scar's vehement protests. We'd hardly covered any ground when I hear a gasp from Hermione.

"Harry! It's pulling me back!" Pivoting right, I watch in horror as powerful winds—amazingly absent in my immediate vicinity—begin dragging Hermione back across the grass.

_No! I can't let it take her!_ I run as fast as I can to catch her, but her speed increases until she is airborne.

"Hermione!!" The memory of her terrified scream haunts me as I run headlong for the spell. I have no idea what I am doing or what will happen to me, but I don't care. I cannot allow her to go through it alone.

Suddenly, I hear Ron shriek my name behind me. I face him and realize he too is caught in the spell's pull. With no wizard to fight, there is little else I can do but tackle Ron and hold on.

"Woah—oh!" Ron ripped from my hands as we reach the event horizon, I pray for them both.

—oOo—

**Robin II Introduction**

_October 2045 eight points off origin; Batman Beyond cartoon timeline_

"There! Is that him?" I turn to look where Batman is pointing. At this distance, it's hard to see his makeup—each member of the Jokerz gang is unique—but the costume looks the same.

"I'm not sure, after a while they all start to look the same." He takes a long, hard look at me—he isn't buying it.

The next thing I know, I'm blindsided by pain as he brings an open hand across my face. "Snap out of it Robin! I need your help on this!" He takes my shoulders in an iron grip as his hidden eyes bore into mine, somehow sharper behind the polyplastic covers in the mask. _Tread carefully, Robin. _"We need to find him and bring him to justice. He is a murderer now. You can't help him."

_Oh, you can't possibly think that I… _Now I'm pissed! I knock his hands away, turning toward the street below. "You really think that's what this is about?"

"What is this about?"

Like you don't already know. I've told you a thousand times before, and you don't want to hear it! That's fine, I'm done trying to explain it to you.

My silence seems to just make him angrier. _Damned if I do, damned if I don't._ I steel myself for another blow but it never comes. Instead, a soft hand appears on my shoulder. _Maybe…_

"Robin, whatever's bothering you, you need to put it aside. Tiny is out there, plotting his next move and I need you working with me to find him before someone else dies."

"That's it!"

"What?"

"Someone else dying, that's what this is about!" _He's not getting it. Slag it! I guess I have to be clearer._

"You're drunk, practically all the time now! You're violent and you're temper is completely out of control!" He can't even look at me. _You know I'm right._

"What does that have to do with anything?" Sigh, well at least he's listening to me, sort of. Maybe I can get through to him this time. His back is still to me, so I rest my hand mid-spin in a comforting gesture; I know this is hard for him. "This Joker is our only lead to Tiny. If you kill him—" his head snaps to face me in alarm, "accidentally," he returns to staring at the passers-by below, "…This is the break we've been looking for. Don't waste—"

"You think I don't know that!?" He advances on me until my heels are just about standing on air. "He murdered a police commissioner. He nearly killed me—TWICE!! I am not going to throw away our one chance to take this maniac down!"

Before I can answer and try to calm him down, the street level fills with shouts as well. Batman rushes to my right to get a clear view of the area. I don't need to move to see it, whatever it is, it's huge. A giant sphere of blue-green water. It's so beautiful, only periodic ripples disturb it's smooth, glassy surface—but we need to prepare for the worst.

"What is that?" I don't really expect him to know, he's only been doing this a few months longer than I have.

"I don't know, but it can't be good for Gotham. Get those people away from here, I'll see what I can do about the floating beach ball." Levity. Good, that's one crisis averted.

I glide down toward the spectators as I chastise myself for feeling relieved that an unknown danger saved me from Batman's wrath. Fortunately most of the rubbernecks willingly retreat to a safe distance when I tell them to, but the Joker, Slab or Brick or something, starts picking up rocks to chuck at it. Most miss, but the last one bounces off the lower end. Suddenly, the sphere is racked with spasms. It's size fluctuates rapidly until a clear whirlpool appears in the center and swallows the whole thing up, revealing a bright, white, horizontal cyclone. I can hear Batman over the radio, trying to describe everything to Mr. Wayne, but I block it out; I need to get that idiot Joker away from it before he destroys our one chance to find Tiny by getting sucked into some kind of hole in reality.

"You need to get back, this thing is obviously unsafe!"

"Hey, you're not the boss of me! Besides, I laugh in the face of danger!"

"Then you can keep laughing when that thing sucks you in." That blank, stupid look on his face as his gaze follows my pointing finger is priceless. I take it back, his jaw dropping in horror watching a truck get dragged toward the furious, white vortex is priceless. He gapes for exactly three seconds before bolting toward the rest of the crowd outside the reach of the raging winds.

"I've got everybody out of the danger zone. Any idea what this thing is?" Hopefully Mr. Wayne knows. As the old Batman, he saw everything from alien invasions to magical zealots.

«It looks like a vortex.»

"Duh." I can feel his ice cold glare over the airwaves.

«Or possibly some sort of wormhole or boom tube. Either way, I wouldn't suggest destroying it.»

«So what should we do?» Batman sounds pretty annoyed being told not to break anything.

«Watch it, and attack anything that tries to go in.» _Great, that could take all night. Brickorslab could be gone by then. Unless…_I turn to grab him. No reason we can't question him and watch the boomtube at the same time!

"Robin! Look out!"

_What…?_ I turn to see Batman charging me like a bull. Then I notice the wind pick up around me. Before I realize what's happening, my feet have left the ground and I'm tumbling head over heels heading straight for the heart of the storm. Over the roar of the howling winds, I hear Batman's despaired cry.

"Robin!!!"

—oOo—

**Lycan Introduction**

_November 2005, twenty-five points off origin; Teen Titans cartoon timeline_

Keeping normal hours is a bitch. I don't really know what the heck I am, but it's definitely nocturnal. Still, this moment makes it all worth it.

Robin. He just woke up, but he still sweeps into the room like a noble king approaching his throne. Even his appearance is kempt—for him anyway. He never does anything with his hair, but I don't think anyone has seen him with bed-head. His cape, billowing out behind him, isn't rumpled or wrinkled. Then there are his eyes…Boy, a girl could sure get lost in those beautiful baby blues; alert and focused, as always. The man is never run down, or off guard in any way, and is a perpetual beacon of confidence no matter who's around or what's happening.

Is it any wonder I'm in love?

Robin gracefully seats himself at the other end of the table and pours his cereal—about as far from me as he can get. He probably didn't mean it, but it still hurts a little. As leader of the Teen Titans, he tries to keep himself distanced from everyone. Like a dark, tormented Royal Knight, leading his army to victory. He's cool, handsome, charismatic, and tantalizingly unattainable.

My Robin.

"Good morning Robin." I turn on as much charm and sex appeal as I can without being too obvious; I don't want to scare him off.

"Good morning Ly." His voice is a little gruff, maybe a little too much after-hours vigilantism?

Dead silence. Boy, can he kill a conversation or what? _Come on Robin, you don't have to keep up that tough-guy façade with me!_ A little more prodding perhaps?

"Uh….did you sleep well?

"Yeah." A couple more agonizing minutes of crunching cereal and clinking silverware. Then, "You?"

_Success! _"Yeah. I had a weird dream…"

Wow, what a dream that was! Robin and I were flying through the night, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, kicking criminal butts, moving in perfect, silent tandem. We needed no words—we knew each other's moves through and through—working in flawless choreography; punching, kicking, jumping, passing so close I could smell his wonderful, sweaty musk even without my predator's nose. Then the punching turned to caressing, the kicking turned to kissing, the jumping to falling; falling on a bed of satin sheets and velvet pillows as we undressed one another in the heat of our passionate love. His muscles gleamed in the moonlight as they flexed to pin me down. Not to be outdone, I'd surged forward to pull him close. The two of us rolled over and over, each fighting for dominance as we both took our pleasures in glorious ecstasy. Yes, that was a good dream.

"You were in it."

Robin shifts around in his seat, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Huh."

That's an odd reaction. Maybe he thinks I dreamed he turned evil or something; he's like that. _I'd better steer us away from this subject, I don't want to lose him._ "Did you dream?"

Suddenly, Cyborg bursts into the room, completely shattering my hard won conversation with Robin.

"Yo, what's up! Everybody ready for a new day?"

_Thanks a lot Cy. Congrats on being my least favorite Titan of the day._ Why couldn't it be Raven instead? She's the only one that talks less than Robin.

I'm more than a little upset at Cyborg for ruining this moment for me, which is why it's so galling to see Robin chuckle a little at Cy's grand entrance. "Good morning Cy. You seem pretty chipper."

I guess he thinks Cyborg is funny, that would explain why he's suddenly in such a good mood. _I can put you in a much better mood._

"Hell yeah! I finished rebuilding the engine block on the T-car last night, and today I get to test drive it; see how that new steering column handles!" Great, now I gotta sit through a whole bunch of boring, boy stuff…"Anyone wanna come watch?"

"Sure."

My head snaps over to Robin. _Wonderful, now I get to spend my morning watching Cyborg parade his stupid car around, preening. Oh well, all is not lost…_I could probably sneak up next to Robin and stand beside him while we watch.

"So you're done? Cool, can I borrow it? I got a hot date tonight and—" "What?! Uh-uh, no way! I'm not even sure it's ready yet. 'Sides, nobody drives my car but ME." Distracted by the conversation and my thoughts, I hadn't noticed Beast Boy come in, but he and Raven are already here, getting their respective breakfasts.

By now, Robin's bowl is almost empty, which means he may disappear any minute. _How can I speed this up?_ "So, when are you planning on—"

"Right after breakfast. I can't WAIT to put my baby through her paces!" Thank God. _Robin, you will be mine yet…_

-+-

The Titan's Tower sits on a tiny island about half a mile from shore. Going back and forth across the water every time you want to test a vehicle's performance isn't really practical, so an enormous underground garage area had been constructed back when they built the Tower. Which is just fine with me since that means I don't have to see or hear anything until the rare occasions when I come down here.

"Everybody ready?" Cyborg opens the door of the new T-car.

"Yeah!" Everybody is lined up near the wall. I try to sidle up next to Robin, but he plants himself between Starfire and Beast Boy. _Little slut. Look at her, hanging all over him!_

"All right, let's see what this baby can do!" Cy turns the key and I glance back over at him in time to spot the simultaneous flash to my right.

Clamoring exclamations, the Titan spectators gather around the bright white light forming before our eyes.

"Did I do that?"

"What is that?" Starfire, the air-headed bimbo, is always so helpful.

"I don't know." Robin stares at the emerging phenomenon as it grows. After it attains a three-foot diameter, it's coated by a smooth, blue surface with bits of white light shining through. Then another coating covers it completely in blue-green glass.

"It looks like……" I can't even finish my sentence, it's so beautiful. I probably should have though, because the next thing I know, the pristine sphere is swallowed up by a vortex that forms in the center and my psychic senses are assaulted by the chaotic energies that carry me through the air.

Wracked with unimaginable pain, Robin's voice barely registers as he calls after me.

"Nooo! Lycan!"

—oOo—

**Tony Introduction**

_May 2006, three points off origin; Nightwing comic timeline; _

In all my days as a shapeshifter, I've never seen anything like this. It's beautiful. Awesome. Overwhelming.

And completely unstable.

Even before I see it, I feel the enormous spike in energy. From a blue-green ball of beauty, to a white, raging vortex of fury. The pull is unimaginable and I can only stare as furniture begins flying into it.

"Ahhhhh!" I manage to catch the leg of our couch and hang on, the vortex still tugging at my legs.

"Tony! What's happening? What is that thing?!" I can barely hear Lisa's panicked voice over the howl of winds and flying debris. I notice she is barely feeling their effect—a mere seven feet away from me. _Good. Maybe if I can get there…but she comes first._

"Lisa! Back up! I'll get out of this, but if you get caught up in the winds…Just find cover!"

"I won't leave you!" The swirling winds seem to redouble their determination. Hands starting to slip, I try to compose a witty final goodbye.

"Better just me than both of us! I love you—uuuuuuuuu!" As the chaotic energies yank me deep into the vortex, I reach out with my mind to try and glean anything helpful about my fate, though it's difficult with the conflicting gravitational forces threatening to rip me to pieces. What is this thing? Where did it come from, and more importantly where is it taking me?

Unfortunately, I get no answers, only more questions.

_Why does this feel like a psionic's portal?_

—oOo—


	3. Arrivals

When the new and unknown arrives, hate and fear aren't far behind.

**X-Men**

_Saturday; October 16, 2004_

It must have been Kitty's scream I heard. I can hear the distress in Rogue's voice screaming Kitty's name, so I charge in their direction as fast as I can. I pass a heap of twisted car parts and junk to arrive on a scene of stillness amid rampant chaos. Wolverine is still fighting but Rogue, Storm and Shadowcat seem paralyzed. Kitty is sitting beneath a giant, aquamarine ball floating about eight feet above her.

My reverie breaks when the sphere loses it's stability and begins rapidly changing in size and shape.

"Shadowcat! Get away from there!"

Kitty's trance seems to break too, and she scrambles away from the new weapon the Vanguard has thrown at us. I'm not sure what it's for, or what it does, but whatever it is I need to destroy it before it hurts anyone. I take aim, a finger resting on my visor's trigger. I plant my feet firmly, as gale-force winds begin pouring out of a reverse-vortex forming in the middle.

—oOo—

**Clark Kent**

_Monday; October 11, 2004_

I awake, tumbling. There is a strong wind all around me, but I'm not hitting anything. I open my eyes in time to watch, stricken, as the ground rushes up at me. Just before my gaze is thrown skyward again, I hit. As a human, I'd be dead. My bones would be crushed to splinters and powder, and my flesh would be a disgusting puddle of goo. But I'm Kryptonian, so I stagger to my feet, suffering from a mild headache and disorientation, and survey the crater around me.

My knees go weak at the devastation.

I seem to have fallen onto the fence line between two suburban homes. The wooden planks that weren't pulverized by my landing had shot off to spear the houses, sheds, surviving fencing and flower bushes in the shockwave.

My face falls even further when I spot the doghouse that was smashed against a neighboring house. I go to check for the dog's possible remains but the house I am closest to starts moaning.

I climb in through one of the blown out windows, careful because of the damage to the wall from my impact wave.

The interior of the house is worse than the exterior. After the windows were blown in, the force continued on to knock over a floor lamp, scatter picture frames and slam a pet parakeet against the back of its cage, leaving it crumpled on the newspaper lining. The walls are slightly caved and had shoved everything that was against them over, including a dresser and a bookcase. A bookcase I just saw move.

"Nnnnngmmm…"

I hurry over and lift the case, silently praying the injuries aren't serious. A young woman is revealed, bruised and semi-conscious. I check for breaks with my X-ray vision but all I find is a hairline fracture in her left tibia. _Thank goodness._

—oOo—

**Robin**

_Tuesday; September 14, 2004_

I'm not sure how long I was unconscious, but it couldn't have been long, because when I come to again, my bike and I are flying through the air, down to the city street ten feet below. I have just enough time to get upright when my tires hit asphalt.

Luckily, I am on the right side of the street. Traffic is light, so I have time to gain control of my bike after the rough landing before having to maneuver around other cars. I breathe a sigh of relief, just missing the back end of a pickup.

I scan around as I dodge in and out of traffic, trying to get my bearings. None of the streets and buildings look familiar. Come to think of it, some of the company names are new to me.

Up ahead there's an RV taking up most of the lane; I won't be able to get past it. The soccer mom next to me is tailgating, but I manage to squeeze in. Still, she honks when she realizes how close I came to clipping her front end. Moving over to the other side, I'm able to spot a sizable parking lot I can stop in.

Whatever the hell that thing was, it seems to have transported me to another city, possibly even another state. I hadn't gotten my communicator out before, and to my relief, I still have it. Unfortunately, after several minutes of trying vainly to raise the other Titans, I have to give up on letting them know where I am.

The parking lot I stopped in has a shopping mall with a library sharing the far corner. I need to find out where I am, so I head toward the mall to ask around for an answer.

—oOo—

**Robin II**

_Saturday; October 23, 2004_

Wow, what a headache. I feel like I just got hit by a maglev. I'm really sore and my vision is blurry, but I sit up to take a look around anyway.

"No, no! Lie down, I think you have a concussion." A powerful hand forces me back down again. _Concussion? He can't possibly know that without… _My hand shoots straight to my face. Skin_. My mask is gone! Don't panic, this can be fixed—later._

_For now…_

"Where am I?"

"You're at my house. Sorry, but you looked pretty banged up when I found you." He hands me my mask as I get my first real look at my benefactor. Auburn curls partially hide his dark, smiling eyes. His skin has the faint tinge of something darker, but he mostly looks Caucasian. He's kind of built and very handsome, but his age…he's a little young for me.

"Thanks." Putting the mask back on seems a bit silly—I was probably out a while—so I fiddle with it, not quite sure what to do.

_What would Batman do? _The old man knew practically everything about this sort of thing. _I think the first thing he'd do is find out where he was—no, find some regular clothes; it's light out. Wait, can I really trust this guy? Maybe I should tie him up and call Mr. Wayne. Or…_

"Umm…My name's Josh."

I'm still staring off into space, going over my options.

"What's—uh, what's your's?"

I gaze at him a moment before retuning to my thoughts. _What should I do? I've never been on my own, Batman's always taken care of it! One or the other. Between the two of them I've never had to make a single decision! Okay, calm down. I have to do something, and if it's wrong, well, I guess Mr. Wayne will clean up my mess. That's what he's for, right?_

"…Well, you're probably hungry, so I'll just—"

"Do you have some extra clothes I can borrow?" That was a little more flat than I meant it. Josh is obviously taken aback by my tone, but I can't afford to let him relax. Keep him off balance so he can't stab me in the back, that's what Batman would do.

But I'm not Batman, I'm Robin. I'm not the big, scary guy that makes the criminals pee in their pants; I'm the nice, disarmingly pretty sidekick that comforts the victims while Batman beats the crap out of their attackers. _Sigh._

"Thanks. Uh, yeah, I am a little hungry." Visibly relaxed, Josh leaves the bedroom, presumably to get my food.

_Please be trustworthy…_

—oOo—

**Static Shock**

_Saturday; October 16, 2004_

When I wake up, I wish I didn't. I'm surrounded by some kind of electric-white energy or something, dizzy from the pain of my arms, legs, head and just about everything else feeling like they are getting ripped off of me. By the time I see sky, I wonder if I'm going to heaven because I died, but a six foot drop to dirt and scrap metal convinces me otherwise. A thick, crimson laser beam shoots past overhead, missing me by inches as I plunge to the ground in the middle of a war zone. The landing is rough, sliding backwards across several feet of dirt, rocks and scrap, but nothing compared to being inside the vortex thing. Overall, definitely an improvement.

"Uh…what's up?" I'm still pretty sore from the ride through… not sure what that was. But it doesn't really make a difference now because right now I'm staring, wide-eyed, at a very angry guy with long metal claws coming out of his knuckles. In the background I notice a girl in costume helping another one to her feet.

"Bloody hell! Please don't kill us. We'll leave immediately, I swear!" To my right there's a weird, red-haired boy a few years younger than me wearing a black dress, about ready to wet himself.

"Relax, we ain't gonna kill ya. But you better get outta here—now—or they will." Claws points behind himself and my jaw drops. Cresting a hill of junked cars and auto parts is a line of soldiers and guys in robo-suits. _Red's gotta be wet now._

"Whoa!"

"Bloody hell! What are those things?!"

Exactly what I was wondering. I spot a white-haired, black woman in a cool blue costume swooping down to fry a couple of robo-suits. I think these guys are superheroes.

"You two picked the wrong time ta drop in."

"Or the right time!" I zap a hubcap lying nearby and hop on. Gathering a charge I get ready to electrocute the enemy, but Shocker blocks me and does it herself.

"Wolverine! Storm! Cover our retreat! Everybody else, pull out!" I just noticed the guy in the red visor; he is acting like some kind of general, barking out orders, but he's half Claw's age! I hover close to the ground near the redheaded kid as Mr. Drill Sergeant turns to us. "That means you too."

"But I…"

"Move out!"

—oOo—

**Batman**

_Saturday; October 9, 2004_

I have no idea what happened. I have no idea how it how it happened. All I really know is that I passed out from an incredible amount of pain and woke up on the grass listening to a bunch of screams and whistles. Figures they'd have to have a concert right where I'd been getting the most sleep I've had since… since I went to work for Bruce Wayne.

Getting up is the easy part, my muscles are only a little sore. Staying up is a entirely different story. Luckily, I'm only a few feet from the wall of what I assume is a park bathroom or something. Fighting off dizziness, I use the side of the building to keep myself propped up and scan my surroundings. I am in a park and I can see a fair going on ahead, but from what I can see of the stage area, this is no concert—maybe a political rally of some kind.

Normally this isn't the sort of thing that would garner my interest, but one of the signs sticking up from the audience catches my eye. It's a crime scene photo—I've seen enough of those to recognize them—depicting a young boy pinned to a blood-soaked, brick wall by a bony spike, like some kind of rare butterfly. Five years ago, I would've puked; three years ago, I would've shed a tear; today, I simply turn away and shuffle forward on unsteady legs to get a closer look at the rally.

Still leaning against the wall I could only pick out random words and sounds from the back of the crowd, even with what the old man had taught me. Getting closer though, I can make out whole sentences… and I don't like what I hear.

"Down with mutants!"

"Mutants are evil!"

"I love you Edward Kastroff!"

"Kill those mutie bastards!"

Mutants? I haven't heard about any mutants. I take a look around at the people in the crowd as the speaker on stage prepares to give his speech. I can see people from all walks of life. Men and women in dress clothes standing next to college students in tattered jeans and t-shirts. Geeks and loners beside jocks and cheerleaders. Fast-food employees side by side with doctors just off work. Some of the attendees are older, but most are fairly young, I even spot a few kids with their parents.

Clearing his throat, the man on stage gains the rapt attention of everyone before him in only a few moments. Clearly, they respect him.

"Mutation. It's like some sort of sick joke God is playing on us. But these mutants—these demons, believe they are gods; it's blasphemy! Their beliefs, their entire lives are an affront to the very foundation of every existing religion! But for some, this is not enough to condemn these mistakes."

_Okay, you've got my attention…_

"For some, the constant path of destruction these freaks cut through our cities is not enough.

"For some, the terror and pain these monsters inflict on innocent men, women and children is not enough.

"For some, the overflowing graveyards these psychos fill with husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, is just not enough! What are they waiting for; what more do they want? What proof do they need? Are they waiting until all of man's accomplishments are reduced to rubble from the mutant's terrible rampage? Are they waiting for the day mutants force us to bow down in their service? Are they waiting for the last true human to fall atop a pile of his murdered brethren, an entire race of people purged from existence? I ask you, how much longer can we truly wait, before all is lost?"

I glance around in wonderment as the cheering from the assembly swells fantastically.

"Ah, but they would argue that not all mutants intend us harm, that they are, in fact, a peace-loving people. But then, how do they explain the Peterson Mall Massacre last week? That didn't look like an olive branch to me! Fifty-three dead and over two hundred injured! How can they call that peaceful?! Oh, but they'd remind us how most mutants have little control of their powers, inform us that in many cases the mutants have been provoked and parade around that tired old excuse about mutants not being a unified front. But if a mutant has so little control over such dangerous abilities, why wouldn't he stay home if he truly did not wish to harm anyone? And if a mutant is just provoked, with so much power, he has a responsibility to ensure no one is seriously hurt—if he intends to remain peaceful, that is. But the last argument is a curious one, because it just doesn't fit the evidence in any conceivable way! Every day—every hour—mutants are stealing, destroying, terrorizing and murdering—not just in America, but across the entire planet! Victimizing innocent people, who have posed little to no threat to mutants. How can anyone believe these perpetrators are not of the same mind? It just isn't plausible…"

I've heard enough. I tune out the rest as I turn to leave. _What the hell? Are they talking about superhumans? Because I admit they can be a pain, but the superheroes can take care of most of the problems. Nobody needs to worry about the 'last true human falling atop a pile of his murdered brethren'. And true humans? Where did that come from? How did people get so prejudice against metahumans?_ I shove past the edge of the blood-thirsty crowd, trying not to cringe with each obscenity and slur that assaults my ears. I am not a delicate person, and I've been exposed to my share of pissed off, hardened criminals, but I've never seen so much hate and anger before. These people are fanatics.

On my way back out of the park, I spot my pack on the grass near where I woke up. _Slag it!_ The old man would kill me if he found out how careless I'd been. _Well, I'm not telling him._

I scoop up my backpack and check to make sure the Batsuit is still inside while I head for the street. From what I can see, I am in a fairly large city, but the architecture looks more like a kept-up version of the Historical District in Gotham. Weird, you'd think they'd have upgraded like everyone else.

There's still another two hundred feet before the park's edge when I hear running and heavy breathing behind me. I spin around, ready for a fight, figuring those fanatic assholes might mistake my hot pink hair for a metapower. Instead I find four men in three-piece suits, quite relieved to have caught up with me.

_Huh?_

"Miss, I couldn't help but notice you leaving the rally." The lead suit is winded, but obviously in better shape than his companions. The one lagging at the back looks about ready to pass out.

"Thanks, but I don't really have much against metas." A couple of the suits are visibly offended by my statement, but I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, they can go shoot themselves. _We should be so lucky._

"Perhaps you don't understand how dire our situation is?" Head Suit is still trying the friendly approach, but I'm not interested in buying what they are selling.

"No, I understand perfectly. I just don't think it's a problem." I turn to leave, but Head Suit catches my arm to plead with me.

"Please, at least hear us out. Give us a chance to show you what the mutants are doing to our society." I have to admit, I'm more than a little curious what evidence they could possibly have to convince me with. _Plus, if these people are this angry with the super-powered community, Batman may have a few crimes to investigate too._

"Fine, you got five minutes. Convince me." My reflexive eye-roll clearly enrages all of them, but Head Suit keeps his cool, and impressively, his smile too.

—oOo—


	4. Join Up or Step Off

Chapter three has been updated. Minor changes to wording for more IC dialogue/narration and added a short little blurb as seen below. Chapters one and two will be updated later with minor alterations to the dialogue/narration for more IC wording.

* * *

Hate isn't strong. It's weak, born of weakness and the primary weapon of the weak. So why then, do people insist on trying to fight it with a stronger hate?

**Lycan**

_Unknown_

……

It takes me a second to remember who I am—to remember what I am. What happened to me slowly comes back into blurry focus too.

"Ughhh."

I try to sit up, attempting to ignore the shooting pain in everything and the raging migraine that threatens to knock me out again; I have to concentrate so I can shapeshift and repair the damage. Amazingly, the more I try to ignore the pain, the worse it seems to get, scattering my mind over miles of mindscape. Giving up, I lay back down and try something else.

_One eye open._

Nothing. It's all black; no shadows, no glow, no indication the eye is working.

_Other eye…stuck?_

It won't move. Perfect. Not only am I in excruciating pain, preventing me from shapeshifting, but now I find I can't even find out why.

"Ow!" A sharp pain in my side screams louder than the dull roars everywhere else. I'd try to find out why, but I'm afraid of causing more damage. _At least my mouth still works. Ears too._

As the new pain subsides, I decide maybe subtlety will afford me better luck. I take a couple deep breaths, concentrate, and go through each section of my body, tensing the muscles to find out just how screwed I am here. What I discover doesn't make me happy. As it turns out, I must have reflexively shapeshifted myself some wings, because I can feel a third shoulder all the way out to the elbow. Beyond that is numb. Number four either wasn't there to begin with, or seems to have been torn completely away. I also have nicks, cuts and bruises all the way down my torso, but there is a weight on my abdominal section impeding movement there and blood flow to my legs, which are numb, but mobile. I'm pretty sure my best bet is to get the weight off me, but it occurs to me that people feeling fine pinned to trees by their cars have died instantly once they were freed; I might be removing the tourniquet that saved my life.

Sighing, I go back to trying to shapeshift my wounds away.

—oOo—

**Clark Kent**

_Monday; October 12, 2004_

The young woman is going to be fine, according to the doctors. I rushed her to the hospital at superspeed, but I've never been in this city before, so it took a few minutes to find the hospital. In retrospect, a phone call might be better next time.

Finding out my unintentional victim would be okay releases me to deal with my own problem. If I was a little more normal, I might think I'd just been through a tornado, but I've done that before and it wasn't nearly as bad or painful as this. Besides, I'd hate to think what might have happened to the farm…and mom. _No way, she's okay. This wasn't a tornado, it was something else, something that can hurt me._

First thing is first: I need to find out where I am, so I start asking people what city this is. Unfortunately, they keep looking at me like I'm an alien—I am, but that's beside the point. After an hour, I'm about ready to give up and see if a new city will afford me better luck, but a kid in a weird white and teal costume is standing right in front of me. I don't remember seeing anybody nearby though, especially not dressed like him.

The suburban street may be narrow, but one guy can't block both sides and both ends of an entire street. I head in the other direction.

He's there too. And wearing an evil grin.

"Goin' somewhere?"

I frown and walk straight at him to pass on his right, but he blocks me again.

"Excuse me." My request is curt, but he barely takes notice. _What is his problem?_

"Sorry, but he wants to talk to you." He points past me.

_What? Who would want to talk to me? And who would know I'm here, I just got—_

Following the trajectory of Houdini's thin finger, I gape at a purple-garbed man literally hovering ten feet above the asphalt. I can't see much of the face hidden behind the red-trimmed, purple helmet, but I see enough to know I never fought him before. Behind him are two more men and a woman, but my focus is on the mauve man in the air.

I don't know what is going on, but I think it's time to get out of here; whatever these guys are planning can't be good for innocent bystanders. I start backing up; if I can keep them talking long enough, maybe I can lead them out of the city.

"Who—who are you?"

"I am Magneto. There is no need to fear me, I will not harm you. But they will." He sweeps his arm grandly to my left.

"Die, mutant scum!"

My eyes dart over to see a man holding a smoking, double-barrel shotgun firm in his grip. My ears still ringing, I spot the buckshot hanging in the air about halfway between him and Magneto. It doesn't take a genius to know how this fight is going to go.

"I'll take that." Houdini pops over and snatches the gun out of the man's hands, then sends it back to a really big, hairy blond. Magneto's muscle snaps it in two.

Now that I've been looking right at him when he did it, I can see that Houdini is just really fast. Really fast.

"Leave him alone!" I plant myself directly in front of their now helpless target.

"You would defend this creature? Even though he would sooner see you dead than thank you?!"

"I don't know what you are talking about, but yes, yes I would. What you're doing? This isn't right! He's no match for you. He's not a threat anymore. Leave him alone."

Magneto seems to consider my words for a moment, then he gives a signal and his crew starts toward me. Then a bunch of tiny explosions near Muscles' feet break the silence. A miniature chopper whizzes past, followed by another one. Both are torn apart easily thanks to Magneto and whatever power he has. _Telekinesis? _But laser-fire from human-sized, manned robots replaces the bullets and Magneto's crew scramble to defend a retreat.

The guy I was protecting rushes over to the soldiers, and I follow, tentatively. I have no idea who they are or what is going on here; I'm not even sure I defended the right side. I only know that allowing Magneto to commit murder had felt wrong. I hope I made the right choice.

It doesn't take long before Magneto and his mysterious followers disappear from view, along with the pursuing infantry. An older man dressed in the same black uniform as the rest of the soldiers approaches me, an aura of authority rolling off him in waves.

"Mr. Johnson told me what you did, son. That was very brave."

"Thank you, sir." _Sounds good so far._

"How would you like a spot in the Vanguard? We could use young, brave souls like you."

_Um, what?_

"Uh, thanks, but—"

"Before you say no, I'd like to show you something."

—oOo—

**Batman**

_Saturday; October 9, 2004_

I stare at the screen, floored. I can hardly believe what I just witnessed; it's a side of the super-powered community I've never seen—never even heard about. And no one even stepped up to help._ There's only one thing to do._

"I want to help."

The smiles in the room send chills down my spine, but I cannot stand by and allow crimes this heinous go unpunished. I have to do something.

Batman has to do something.

—oOo—

**Tony**

_Thursday; October 14, 2004_

As a clone, I never really belonged anywhere; I had no life, nor any family to call my own. Even my name was made up, a variation of the one belonging to the guy whose DNA created me. But as a shapeshifter I've made up for that. My identity is still made up, but I don't have to share anymore. I have friends now, too, and a girlfriend who loves me, not someone who looks like me. So I'm pissed as hell that I was torn from what little of a life I had made for myself. But I can't let that overwhelm me. I need to stay clear and focused, like Mr. Wayne would have.

Getting up, I dust myself off and take stock of my surroundings. I can't tell the place or timeline, but the background and the architecture of the buildings on this street suggest this is a small mountain town at the turn of the century—twenty-first, thankfully. I guess it must have been some kind of portal.

I notice there are a lot of people around, all wide-eyed and deathly silent, stock still and staring at me. Not a good sign. I can't tell if I'm the first meta they've seen, or if I'm the first good meta they've seen, but either way, this is just not my day. Leaving sounds like a really good idea—immediately.

_Uh-oh_, I just felt a shift in the ambient mood of the crowd; from fear, to anger—no. Hate.

"Mutie!" An instant mob descends upon me, shouting profanities and slurs I've never even heard of before. What the hell is wrong with these people? I turn tail and run for the nearest alleyway. Using my powers right in front of them is just going to cause more trouble, but an unexplained disappearance may not.

A few people are still close enough to see me if I try to portal or shapeshift, so I keep running. Maybe there's another power I can use? Superspeed…flight….telepathic illusion….Yes! An illusion could work. It might fail with a large crowd, but only the leading edge of the group has a clear view of me. I come up with an image of myself still running away and my best friend, Dane, bewilderedly wandering toward the crowd. As soon as I round the next corner, I send it out to the maniacs behind me and shapeshift to play the part of Dane. God, I love these powers!

I allow the roiling throng to push and shove their way past me while I pretend to be lost and confused. Leaving the enraged townspeople on their wild goose chase, I backtrack to the main street to see if I can find any more information on this new timeline I'm in. And possibly why these people loathe metas.

—oOo—

**Static Shock**

_Saturday; October 16, 2004_

Mr. Drill Sergeant and his company had herded the redhead and me away from the battle ground as quickly as possible, then we'd been packed into the most awesome jet I've ever seen. After a few tense moments while we were harried by incoming air support from the other side in the form of mini-choppers we easily left behind once we got a little altitude, Red and I had tried hard to get answers out of these new heroes. But they had stonewalled us the whole way, instead checking up on whatever other forces they happened to have had back there.

We at least manage to get introductions from the younger members of the team on the way. Shadowcat and Jean are friendly enough, though Rogue seems a little standoffish. Red turns out to be named Ron Weasley. I suppress a major snicker as best I can, but I still get a hurt glance from the kid. Finally, we arrive at our destination; a large mansion with a basketball court, pool and acres of empty woods where I could openly use my powers without any worry. I don't see a runway though, so I am a little confused until the plane veers out over the water. Looking around at the other passengers, Ron and I are the only ones nervous when the plane points itself directly at a cliff-side waterfall and holds steady. _Tell me this is some kind of test!_

The shrill scream next to me voices what I can't, but I burst out laughing a few seconds later when the waterfall parts to reveal a hole in the cliff. A hidden runway! These people are so bomb!

On the way off the jet Jean introduces Mr. Drill Sergeant as 'Cyclops', Shocker as 'Storm', and Claws as 'Wolverine'.

"So, who were those guys?"

"In a second. Professor Xavier wants to see you two." Cyclops blows me off and ushers Ron and me over to meet Professor Xavier in his office. The whole place looks really…stuffy. Like some English school or something. Ron doesn't appear bothered by the décor, but his accent sounds kind of English too.

Professor Xavier is patiently waiting behind a desk in an even stuffier office.

"Welcome, Virgil and Ronald."

_Hold up! When'd I tell anybody my real name?! I'm in costume!_

"You did not tell anyone your true name. My name is Professor Xavier and I am one of the most powerful telepaths on Earth."

My eyes grow wide when I realize he could know everything about me. My friends, my family…my deepest, darkest secrets.

"Not everything. I can only hear anything you are currently thinking about. If I probed deeper you would know about it."

_Okay, that makes me feel a little bit better…I guess._

"So then…you can hear everything we are thinking!?" Ron seems absolutely horrified by the revelation. As hard as it is to believe, he looks almost as scared now as he was when we first crashed their party. Probably hasn't seen much action or meta-weirdness before.

"Yes, but not to worry; everything I hear is kept in the strictest confidence."

Xavier still has me a little on edge, but…I don't know. I've had my mind violated before, but his warm smile is very convincing. And it's not like he had to tell me. There's something about him that seems really genuine.

"So then who were these guys? And who are you?"

—oOo—

**Robin**

_Tuesday; September 14, 2004_

As it turns out, the wormhole did transport me to a different state—Virginia. Worse than that, after calling every superhero number I remember and getting strange people I've never heard of, I tried looking up numbers for everyone else I knew on one of the library computers and discovered that the few names that came up on the search belong to other people. No one I know has any record in any database. I even tried hacking several government servers. As a last resort, I tried typing Bruce Wayne. Zilch. This is bullshit; I know they exist.

Unless…

_Erasing computer files is easy enough--hell I've done it. But there is no way to destroy __all__ the evidence._

—oOo—

**Robin II**

_Saturday; October 23, 2004_

It took Josh ten minutes to get back. In that time, I'd recovered enough to ease out of his bed, check my utility belt to make sure he didn't take anything while I was asleep, and half-walked, half-fell across the room to gaze out his window at the unfamiliar cityscape.

The buildings are in an old style that I think was popular in the last century, everything is short and I can't see a single hovercar. They all have wheels, _strange…_I also notice a lot of white, picket fences. Maybe I'm just in another part of the country, like Kansas? _I guess things are just different outside Gotham City._

"You know, you really shouldn't be up yet." _Slag it! I didn't even hear him. Pay attention Robin!_

"I'm all right. Thanks for your concern." My gaze drops to the tray of food in his hands. Pizza and a salad, with an OJ chaser. At least he seems to be on the up and up.

Josh is still nervous around me, so an uncomfortable silence falls over the room as he tries to think of something to say and I struggle to keep myself upright, leaning against the windowsill for support.

A decision finally made, he breaks the silence and sets the tray down across the room on the nightstand.

"So, you're a…mutant. Huh?"

He stares at me expectantly, but I'm a little too distracted with my own thoughts, trying to stay upright and deciding whether or not it's worth it to try crossing the room again for food and rest. Not to mention the obvious display of weakness Batman would never show. _Why does this have to be so hard?_

Concluding it's a stupid idea, I reposition myself, slumping against the window frame for greater support, and roll my head to gaze out at the modest suburban homes lining the next cul-de-sac. My vision has gotten pretty blurry, so I can't make out much detail past the nearest properties. My worsening health is starting to worry me, but Batman would be able to push through, so I can too.

"Are you with the X-Men, or that other guy?"

"What guy?" The concern in his voice mentioning the 'other guy' is hard to miss, even in my present condition.

"You know, the one in purple that fought them a couple times."

I'm still baffled. Maybe I should mention I'm from Gotham, not here. _No! That's a stupid idea. If he knows where I'm from, he can find out who I am! And then trace it back to Mr. Wayne and—_

"I'm not gonna tell anybody. You can trust me." Josh is starting to get a little annoyed with me. _Okay, so how do I handle this? More fear? More friendliness? More info?_

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'm… I'm a mutant too." He appears ashamed by the admission. _What in the heck is a mutant?_

"Uh, good for you."

A few minutes pass as I languish against the wall agonizing over tactics and plans, contemplating the term 'mutant', and Josh runs through every facial expression in existence, from embarrassment to fear to anger, changing posture and position on the edge of the bed with each new emotion.

_This is ridiculous. I have next to no info, and I'm digging myself into a deeper hole every second. Slag it, I'm trusting him. If it's wrong, then Mr. Wayne can deal with it._

"Dana."

—oOo—


	5. Everything You Know is Wrong!

In case anyone is interested, I just reuploaded all the chapters, so each contains minor alterations, plus the addition of the little blurbs I've started including. I'm trying to make them all pertain somewhat to the upcoming chapter too. I also altered dates slightly; Robin II's origin was a little off.

Still have not gotten around to re-editing in consideration of my concrit, but I bear it all in mind for future chapters. I do still plan to rewrite the beginning chapters though. Just later.

Thanks to everone for reading!

* * *

If love is strong and hate is weak, why do we have so much of the latter?

**Robin II**

_Saturday; October 23, 2004_

"What?" Josh's eyes are wide in bewilderment.

"My name is Dana. You asked me earlier?" Suddenly the butterflies return to my stomach and worst-case scenarios begin parading through my head, double-time. I start second-guessing my decision—until that warm smile returns to his face.

"It's nice to meet you Dana." He crosses the room, his right hand outstretched, but mine is hidden behind me, trapped against the wall by my thigh. I offer a weak smile instead.

"Listen, uh, you're pizza's getting cold. Let me help you back over…"

My reticence to accept help is hard to let go of, drilled into me by months of training, but I need support to make it back. Biting the bullet, I lean on his muscular, bronze shoulders and wobble back over to flop down on the mattress. It feels so good to be horizontal again that I hardly notice sleep overtake me.

—oOo—

**X-Men**

_Saturday; October 16, 2004_

"So who were those guys?"

"Terrorists." Wolverine is standing in a corner, his arms crossed. Now that the fighting is over, he's his normal, surly self. Not that being consumed with bloodlust is much better.

"And we are the X-Men." The Professor cuts in quickly, drawing attention off Wolverine. That's probably a good idea; the redhead looks nervous enough. I decide to assist the Professor.

"The people we were fighting are the Human Protectorate's Vanguard. The HP is an anti-mutant organization. The Vanguard is their army."

"Mutants? You mean like those gross little creatures you hear about in horrors?"

It takes all my self control to keep a cool head. Even so, I bristle at Ronald's ignorance.

"Uh, I think he means us—metahumans?" Virgil isn't angry like me, but he still wasn't happy about Ronald's guess.

Metahumans…Now that's a name I haven't heard before. _I wonder where Virgil got that one? Sounds a lot better than 'mutant'._

"What are those?"

"I do, and a mut—metahuman is a person who is born with abilities that humans don't have."

Ronald's eyes lit up the moment I mentioned the word 'abilities'.

"Oh, you mean wizards! The muggles know about us?"

Wolverine and I exchange incredulous and confused looks, but the Professor maintains his confident demeanor. I try to do the same, recomposing myself. Virgil just gives us a little shrug.

"You wanna speak English, half-pint?"

Wolverine. No tact, but it's the same question on all our minds.

"But I am speaking English!" Ronald protests in frustration, but a firm glare from Wolverine cows him immediately. Slowly, he explains the term. "Well…I'm a wizard, and I assume you are too. I can cast spells and such, but the muggles can't."

"Uh-huh." '_Spells'?…Interesting…_Where the term 'muggle' came from I'll never know, but Dr. McCoy enters the room before I can consider asking.

"Perhaps I should give the lad a lesson while you bring Virgil up to speed on the situation?"

"Good idea, and while you're at it, why don't you give the kid some real clothes."

Ronald seems mortified by Wolverine's assertion that his clothes were less than normal. I honestly can't see how he might be surprised by that. Dress shirt and tie under an ankle-length robe on a teenager? Probably the school uniform over in England.

_Glad I don't live there._

The minute the door closes I get down to business.

"Okay, so here's the deal. There are mutants emerging everywhere, without warning, and it has the public scared. They think we're a threat."

"Why? What about the Justice League? Nobody's afraid of them."

Virgil's interruption irks me a little.

"Well, I never actually heard of the Justice League, so maybe that's why. Anyway—"

"Never heard of the Justice League?! How could you not've heard of the JLU? They're like, the best and most powerful superheroes in the WORLD! Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Batman—well not Batman anymore, but Green Arrow, The Marsh—"

"I'm sorry Virgil, but I've never heard of any of those people." This kid is really going to test my resolve.

Unsure why I suddenly feel I have to justify how things have gotten as bad as they have, I resume my speech defensively. "Anyway, a lot of terrorist groups have emerged because of that fear, and are trying to wipe us out. They don't just attack mutants that have committed crimes; they don't even just attack mutants with dangerous powers. They target all mutants, and some even hurt the families of mutants because they may also carry the X-gene."

"And the X-gene is…?"

"What gives us our powers."

"Oh, well actually I got my powers from the Big Bang."

Confused, I strain to imagine how the beginning of the universe could possibly have given anyone, even a single person, powers—especially after so long. Wouldn't that have shown up long before now?

I don't have to wonder long, though. Virgil notices my confusion and elaborates.

"It was a chemical accident, this weird purple gas exploded and…" He ends his explanation with a shrug.

"Oh. Huh…"

The room descends into an uncomfortable silence, everyone staring awkwardly.

Speaking up for the first time, Jean breaks the silence, trying to ease the mood.

_That's my Jeanie._

"Most of us were born this way. But groups like the HPV and the FOH won't care where our powers came from. We are all in danger, so Professor Xavier put together the X-Men to fight the violent extremists like them, and also Magneto."

"Magneto?"

This kid's ignorance of not only the gravity of the mutant community's situation, but also of world events is really starting to frustrate me. Fortunately the Professor rescues me from losing my cool.

"A powerful mutant who believes peace is only possible through conquest."

"Oh great. So he's a supervillian then, huh?"

"We do not like to label. He is entitled to his own views." The Professor's answer is diplomatic, but I think Virgil is more accurate. The things Magneto does…they haven't helped our situation much and only really seem to hurt people.

"Yeah, but don't his views get people hurt? You said he was violent."

_Huh. The kid's pretty sharp; guess he isn't as dumb as I thought. So how did he manage to get through life without knowing anything about the anti-mutant conflict? It's been raging for over two years!_

We chew on his words a bit while Virgil awkwardly looks around at the Professor's office. Professor Xavier has been staring intently at Virgil for most of the meeting, studying him. But as the most powerful telepath in the world, he may also be studying Ronald.

"So X-Men, huh? Whaddaya call this place?"

"This is Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Children."

I notice Virgil is more relaxed when Jean is talking; she has that effect on people. A smile creeps into the corner of my mouth.

"You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, Virgil. You and your friend." It's not a surprising offer—the Professor is often very generous—but something about the look in his eyes when he says those words catches me off guard. I wrestle with the thought for all of thirty seconds before discarding it as my imagination.

"He's actually not my…You mind if I use you're phone?"

Professor Xavier nods, and I show Virgil to the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

It's a simple question, but for the first time, Virgil's face loses all humor. Until now, I hadn't even thought he was capable of seriousness.

"Batman."

—oOo—

**Lycan**

_Unknown_

It's been hours since I woke up the first time—or maybe a whole day? I fell unconscious several times, so even if I could tell how long I'd been lying there while I was awake, I still have an unknown amount of time completely unaccounted for. I'm also hungry now, and very thirsty. The pains haven't gone away yet, though they have blended together in a silent storm surrounding my consciousness. I had forgotten what I'd been doing for a while, too, but as soon as I remembered, I started trying to heal my injuries again. But it still won't work. And I still can't get up. I still can't see anything. I can't even tell if I've made any progress!

I'm scared, hurt and totally miserable. I wish Robin was here; he'd know what to do. _Shoot, I wish any of the Titans were here!_ Even Starfire would be a welcome face. Trapped under this huge something, battered and broken, my hope is running out. I descend into a fit of tears as it dawns on me for the first time just how hopeless my predicament is. I am completely helpless. I am alone. No one knows where I am.

A piteous moan escapes my lips. _I am going to die here…_

—oOo—

**Robin**

_Tuesday; September 14, 2004_

I don't particularly want to, but Virginia is fairly close to New York. A quick search for directions and I'm off.

Walking out of the library is easy, but it makes me uneasy. The whole time I've been in Virginia, I've been getting stares and whispers. Parents pulling their children close, teens gathering to consider an ill-advised plot, grown men and women changing direction at the mere sight of me. Pointing fingers, stares and a wide berth from everyone in the vicinity—something is very wrong.

Wrong or not, I don't have time to deal with this; finding out what happened to all the heroes is much more pressing. My bike had drawn the interest of a couple tweakers, but the sight of me drives them off.

Only twenty feet from my motorcycle, my ears catch the sound of air rushing to fill a new void. Whirling around, I easily spy the rock shooting clumsily for my face. No need to worry though, the aim is off; it'll miss by a few inches. The hush that comes over the suburban mall parking lot is threaded with tension as my audience takes in the assault. I stand stock-still while the projectile whizzes past—disturbing my hair and little else—as I pick out my assailant. '_Kid's fifteen, sixteen at best. Stupid; what does he really think he can do to me? I guess people have forgotten who Robin is on the East Coast._

_I may have to remind them._

—oOo—

**Tony**

_Thursday; October 14, 2004_

Dane's green eyes stare placidly at my coffee. The patrons around me are eating normally, completely unaware of what sits in their midst, hidden by the guise of wavy, chocolate hair and crystalline, emerald eyes. Dane was always the quiet sort. Except when he hung with me; I talk even less than he does. Playing this part easily comes off natural and unthreatening.

I stare at nothing with Dane's eyes, but I see everything with my mind. A quaint little diner with a modest patronage. The girl behind the counter is young and friendly, but she expects to work here as long as the old cook in the back has. There are three men at the counter; one waiting for his order, the other two chowing quietly. The one still waiting is flirting with the waitress, but only because it's expected. He is an odd-jobber, passing through, on his way to the next meal ticket. The other two are businessmen on their lunch breaks. Both are attempting to ignore the conversation four feet away, but the one at the far end has a personal attachment to the girl. Thoughts of violent consequence mask the underlying cause of his rage. Behind me is a mother of three, but her oldest is in school now, leaving her alone with a toddler and a baby, even more stressed without her little helper. Lastly, a little ahead of me to the left is a group of teen dropouts. The girl in the group has had her eye on me since I strolled in; somehow they can always tell I'm the badboy type. Aside from the jokester, her male comrades are clearly aggravated by my monopoly of her attention. I still have Lisa at home, but a self-satisfied smirk threatens to overtake my face anyway. I can't let on that I've noticed her though, as angry as they are, her friends might see any reaction from me as an excuse to start something. Something I could easily finish, but unfortunately I am a meta, surrounded by people who hate metas, so I need to keep up the charade. I am Dane. I am normal.

Mutants. That's what they call us. Like there's something wrong with us. Where I come from, people want to be like us. These people are evil!

I want to leave this timeline—now—but I can't take the chance that whatever it is that brought me here will interfere with my portal. At least I know where I am now; Estes Park, Colorado in 2004. I'm in the wrong area, but that's easily fixed, and the time is close enough. Still, my girlfriend, my best friend and my entire life is in another timeline, on another Earth. I can't start over again; I have to get back!

My reverie is broken by frightened screams and angry shouts outside. _Great, what poor meta are they harassing now? _I push my way past the few curious diners of this establishment._ You know, usually when people start screaming, everybody rushes over to help! How can they just ignore this? This is just wrong, I need to do something! _Emerging from the diner, my mind goes blank and I just stare.

_Giant, killer robots? _The enormous rig fires off another shot at the kid it's chasing._ This place has giant, killer robots!? What the fuck!? _

Poor kid. A twelve or thirteen-year-old living in a small, Colorado town, and he's running for his life while people silently cheer. Only it's not so silent, because I hear it. Sometimes being a telepath really sucks.

The robot is big and clunky, so I have time to run into an alley before I 'shift into my superhero persona. _Superhero, heh. I wonder how many will call me that in __this__ world._

Superman seems like a good choice for this situation, so I augment my DNA to become kryptonian. Superstrength and speed will be very helpful here. The kid is completely terrified and will likely run from anything that comes near him, so I focus on destroying the murderous automaton instead.

"Additional mutant signature detected."

That must mean me. I fly up and rip off pieces of armaments.

"Situation assessment; category 4 mutant: hostile. Requesting additional units."

Well, at least the damn thing is programmed to tell me all it's plans. What kind of idiots created these things? Figuring those people may actually be that stupid, I fly up and jam a fist in each eye. _Are you blind now, you piece of crap?_

"Unit function compromised; request immediate assistance."

_Ha! Wow, what dumb fucks! _The enormous behemoth seems to not only be blind, but is also suffering from an inner ear problem now. The metal monster teeters around, kicking up it's legs trying to regain balance, while terrified townspeople flee in all directions. Watching from a good distance, I make sure it doesn't hit anything important—like something with people in it. Even from here, my telekinesis can turn any iffy moment into a near miss and I can see everything that happens very clearly.

Finally, the robot loses its fight with gravity and is about to sit on someone's house when I swoop in to save the day. Just like I've seen Superman do so many times before, I come up underneath the thing's ass and slowly lift it high in the air, saluting the crowd as I go. I don't expect cheers for me, but I figure it might minimize their fear or outrage. I hope.

Once I'm a couple hundred feet up, I can spot a nice stretch of tree-dotted valley, devoid of roads and houses. _Looks like a good place._ Digging into the outer armor on it's rear end, I spin my load once around and hurl it off to the future junkyard.

"Mutant target acquired; mutant capture sequence initiated."

_What the—?_

—oOo—

**Clark Kent**

_Tuesday; October 12, 2004_

Picking at my new and very uncomfortable, obsidian uniform, I mull over the new information I've absorbed recently and try not to let the despair it elicits overwhelm me. I am waiting for my trainer to arrive so he can teach me to fire a gun. I don't want to fire a gun—I don't even want to learn—but I'm going to because I have to if I want to stay. And I want to stay because they fight the 'mutants' like I did back in Smallville. And I want to fight the mutants because they have declared war on the innocent, normal people that need someone like me to protect them.

I am in deep.

I've seen the death and destruction they have caused, though. I've seen the terror they spread, and the lives they destroy. The HPV showed me—it's a literal war. I have to do something, and since I had no idea about this, I obviously need their help to really fight these…mutants. It's not like I haven't teamed up with other vigilantes before—to save people and fight a dangerous enemy. But this time is different. The stakes now are higher than ever, and even worse, I can't use my powers this time. The HPV has no idea I'm different from these mutants; they'd probably kick me out if they found out about my powers. So I'll use them in secret, after I go home to the apartment they rented me, because here, as a soldier in the Human Protectorate's Vanguard, is where I can do the most good.

"Clark Kent?"

"Yeah."

My gaze settles on a sleek, coal-black figure topped with a cascade of red. Her arctic-blue eyes seem to see more than just mine, as though staring through me, she sees the secrets of the universe. I shift uncomfortably on my feet and try to find an angle where I can't see her eyes.

"Come on Kent, don't be shy. I don't bite."

I offer a weak smile and fall in step behind her.

"My name is Lieutenant Donna Price, you can call me Lt. Price, sir or ma'am. When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it. Don't interrupt me, don't question me, and above all, don't insult me. And for god sakes, quit staring at my ass."

My head snaps back up instantly—I hadn't even noticed it drift down!—but she did. My cheeks burn brighter than her hair while I look for a spot to stare at so I can pretend I'm not really here. Lt. Price laughs derisively and resumes her list of rules.

When we get to the firing range, I notice I'm not the youngest person there, in fact there are several kids that should be starting high school in a few weeks. Yet I'm probably the worst shot in the room. The sandy-haired kid to my right looks like he's been handling a gun since fifth grade; rigid stance, even hand, excellent aim, and a hard, yet bored, expression. What have I gotten myself into?

"It's alright Clark. Nobody's perfect the first time."

I know Lt. Price is trying to make me feel better, but somehow she makes me even more nervous. I try to pretend I'm alone, then fire off a few more rounds. All misses—I can't even hit the paper!

"Grr. I'm never going to get this!"

"Calm down. Listen, all you need to do is relax. Take a deep breath and let everything go. No one is judging you here. Just take your aim, focus on the target, and pull the trigger."

Following her instruction as she tells me, I try one more time to hit the target.

"I did it!"

A huge smile on my face, I stare at the three holes just outside the outer ring of the target with pride. I barely hit the paper at all this time, and I'd fired four rounds, but the fact remained that I actually managed to hit something this time. I know it might not seem like much to most people, but after a lifetime of having every sport be instantly easy, it feels good to finally have to work hard for my success…even if it is from firing a gun. Even if it is training to fire that gun at people. Even if it is training to become a killer. Staring at those three holes on the target, my blood turns to ice; I know what they expect me to do with this training. How can I feel good about that?

The smile slips off my face and I stoically reload to try again.

—oOo—

**Robin II**

_Saturday; October 23, 2004_

I awake to a gentle rocking and the smell of Beefy Burgers.

"Dana, wake up. I got you some dinner."

I open my eyes and to my dismay, spy a clown head on the wrapper of my burger. _Tiny. We probably lost our one shot at him because __I__ got sucked into a hole in reality. Damn._

"I should call. They're probably worried about me."

"Who, the X-Men?" Josh seems a little too hopeful for yes to ignore. He sets the tray down on his nightstand and turns back to me.

"No. Who exactly are the X-Men? And what did you mean when you said you were a mutant? You look fine to me."

He blushes at my comment—then realizes I am serious.

"Um, well, the X-Men are all mutants—good mutants, I think, and a mutant is someone who was..born…with…..powers." Josh trails off at the end, studying a band poster hung next to the door.

"Oh."

"Are…you a mutant?" For a second I think he's staring at my modest chest when his gaze drops, but it dawns on me that most superheroes have powers.

"Oh! No, heh, just a regular, old human." Apparently this isn't the answer he wanted to hear. "But I've got nothing against them! Just clowns." Josh starts to feel better, so I add playfully, "You're not a clown, are you?"

The two of us share a good, long laugh, releasing all the pent-up tension from earlier. It never occurred to me before how long it had been since I was happy, but experiencing this moment with Josh reminds me of how tense and serious I've been this past year.

-+-

Josh's mom went straight to bed after her date, so he was able to spend all his time with me, filling me in about mutants, the X-Men and all the prejudice and hate the media forgot to mention. Oh yeah, and the date.

"Two thousand FOUR!?"

"Shh! Keep it down, my mom's a light sleeper! Yes, two thousand four. So what?"

"So what? I wasn't even born until twenty-twenty-three! Oh my god, I'm in the past. Slag it, how the heck am I going to get back?"

Josh is floored by this revelation, but that doesn't stop him from trying to make me feel better.

"Don't—don't worry, we'll figure something out."

His strong hand rests on my shoulder and the rising panic begins melting away. It's a silly idea, but I can't help feeling like I've found my new Batman. Josh is several years younger than me, yet I've begun to feel safe around him—in some ways, more safe than when I'm with Batman.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. However this happened, there's gotta be some way to undo it, right?"

He gave me an encouraging smile.

I can't believe all these feelings I'm having for him, but I need him. Without him, there'd be no way I could have handled this problem or had any chance of fixing it. But because of him, I am actually feeling optimistic. Maybe I can find a way home!

"You said the X-men are good mutants, right?"

"Yeah, why? What are you thinking?" A smile spreads across his face as his thoughts catch up to mine.

"Think maybe the X-Men know something about timetravel?"

—oOo—

**Static Shock**

_Saturday; October 16, 2004_

"Who are you calling?"

"Batman."

I know that the chances Richie hasn't left Dakota already are pretty slim, but I still feel like I need to rush. Cyclops leaves so I can make the call privately, looking a little confused. I punch in the number for Wayne Manor and wait for the familiar voice of Bruce Wayne.

"Hello?"

_Not Bruce Wayne._

For some reason, an older woman answers the phone. Maybe this is a bad time? Panic flashes over me until I remember this is an emergency.

"Um, hi! I need to speak with Mr. Wayne immediately. It's an emergency!"

"Emergency? Oh, my! I'm terribly sorry, but you have the wrong number. There isn't a Mr. Wayne living here."

"Oh, heh, sorry." I hang up quickly and dial again.

"Hello?" It's the same woman again. Definitely not a wrong number.

"Uh, this is 728-4535, right?"

"Yes."

"You sure this isn't Bruce Wayne's phone?"

"No, I'm quite sure. I've had this number for thirteen years, and I've never heard of anyone named Wayne even living in my building. Are you sure you aren't just remembering the number wrong?"

_That isn't right._

"Oh, yeah. That's probably it. Sorry to bother you. Um, bye!" Something is going on. Thirteen years? Ha! I called this number once about five months ago when I spotted a fat, umbrella-carrying weirdo at the docks two nights in a row. I'd heard Gotham mentioned and figured Batman might be missing that guy. This is his number. He must be in trouble.

Cyclops comes back and asks me how it went.

"Uh, fine. I'm gonna need to go somewhere for a while. I'll be back later."

"Do you need a ride?" He starts to head in the direction of what I assume to be the garage.

"Wait, no. I'm cool." Running back to the hanger, I retrieve the old hubcap I picked up at the junkyard. I don't really know any other way out, so I retrace my steps back to the only exit I've seen, near the room the phone was in. I blow past Cyclops on my way back through the house and he shouts something, but I've already used my powers to open the doors and am racing out. Outside, there aren't any other buildings around on the enormous property the Professor built on, so there's nothing to slow me down while I climb higher on my makeshift flying disk. It's only after I'm speeding across miles of empty forest that I realize I don't really know where I am or how to get to Gotham from here. I mean, I could follow the coastline, but…up or down?

—oOo—


End file.
